Like Real People Do
by bliss4u
Summary: After Raoul dies, Christine visits a gypsy witch, who will resurrect her soulmate. But when she goes to dig up Raoul, she finds someone she didn't expect. Inspired by: Like Real People Do by Hozier.
1. Chapter 1

Here I have a note:

 **This fic is based off a song which I HIGHLY recommend listening to before read but you don't have to. Its called: "Like Real People Do" by Hozier.**

 **Basically, the song is about a woman digging up a man late at night and having a romantic relationship. He laments about she was digging in the first place, why at that time of night? He says he won't her ask her why, but he already knows she wasn't really looking for him.**

"Everything is always taken away from me," Christine sobbed, "Mother. Father. Now Raoul?"

She had no one else to turn to once Raoul had died. She had gone to the village witch for help.

"Madame. Raoul was my true love. Surely there is some way you can raise him from the grave?"

The witch smirked. "Oh true love, you say?"

"Yes Madame. I'm sure of it."

"There is a way I can bring a person's soulmate up from Hell. But the spell would break if the string of fate breaks. Or in other words, you can't be apart from each other or both souls die."

"That wouldn't be a problem."

"And of course, money."

"Yes. Of course." She handed over her pouch of coins. It was all her savings from working at the local tavern. The witch took it greedily.

"Excellent. The spell has been set. Go to the graves in the bog and dig up your lover."

Christine fled, she ran desperately across the small village. As she entered the bog, her pastel blue dress snagged a tree, as if telling her to turn back. Yet she continued. She came upon the gravesite. Cold and unfeeling, but she had hope. Hope that the witch had not tricked her, hope that Raoul was alive. Just a patch of unmarked graves. She began digging holes not quite knowing where they buried him. Her hands grew dirty and her hair matted. The gown was ruined and she was tired as she dug her seventh hole. As her hands touched the soil for the millionth time, a pale hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. She shrieked and wretched her hand away.

It's Raoul. She thought as she tried to calm herself down. She kneeled back down in the dirt and began digging around the hand. Her heart stopped at she uncovered the groaning head. It wasn't Raoul. She instead saw a face, half covered by a white leather mask and amber eyes, like a cat's, shining through.

 _Maybe it is Raoul. Maybe it's tradition to wear a mask in his family._

She reached for the mask and pulled it away as the creature roared. A sunken eye, a nonexistent nose, mottled skin twisted in horrible patterns. She couldn't breathe. He was still decomposed. She had to live with a corpse, a zombie.

"Aren't you a curious angel? Or are you a demon? Digging me up to drag me to Hades? Or did you dig me up to see that the rumors were true, that they buried a monster?!" The mysterious man said with spite. He grabbed the mask from her hands and readjusted it on his face. His all black and she wondered who she had dug up. Erik had only just awoken to have his mask ripped from him by a beautiful angelic woman, she had to have an ulterior motive.

"Dear God. I thought she would fix it." She whispered. How foolish was she to believe a gypsy witch was going to give her a fully alive person, just as they were when they were living.

 _Fix it? What is she talking about?_ Erik thought.

"What are you talking about you foolish girl?"

"I paid a gypsy witch to get me my...soulmate back from the dead. But you're already decomposed," she said breathlessly.

 _She believed him to be a literal corpse, not resurrected fully._

A terrible laugh filled the air.

"You think this," he gestured to his mask, "is a product of decomposition? Oh ingenue. I was born like this, sweetheart," he said cruelly.

"Besides, you should be trusting those gypsies. They must have the spell wrong to think _I'm_ your soulmate," he continued, "Thanks for digging me up girl. But I must be off."

He needed to be away from this naive angel, who kept on saying that _they_ were soulmates. _What a farce._

"Monsieur! Monsieur! Wait!" she called after him.

A groan was heard and the black figure came back to her.

"There was a price for bringing you back to life," she said hesitantly, "we can't be apart."

He looked at her bewildered.

"Or we'll both die."

"Making deals with the gypsies is never a good idea. Let's go to them and break the spell."

"I don't even your name, monsieur."

"It's Erik."

"Erik." She said rolling it over her tongue.

"I'm Christine Daae." She said offering a handshake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Bellasera- As for the time and place...The place is rural France. Period?** **¯\\_(** **ツ** **)_/¯ In my mind, it shifts between medieval and regular poto time. So as of right now, ambiguous, but imma let you know when I figure it out.**

 **Leona-Thanks! There is going to be a lot fluffy cute shit and it's gonna be gr8 m8.**

 **Melstife, FireRuby, and Not A Ghost3, I read all your reviews multiple times and every time they just bring a smile to my face.**

 **I'm gonna try to do 600-800 words per chapter and for me my greatest struggle is short chapters. Ahhh! I wrote the outline for the fic and its gr8 and angst and so many good things comin' down the pipeline.**

So they headed off to the forest, going around the village as to not let the townspeople see Erik and his mask. It was sunset now and the light was dimming. With every passing moment it was getting harder and harder to see, at least for Christine. Both were caked in dirt and mud and the brambles stuck to their clothes as they walked on the forest floor.

"Erik?" She finally spoke.

"Yes, Christine?"

"I'm sorry about the mess I made," she looked at him, his gaze was looking forward, not meeting her eye.

"Well, it's better than hell," he retorted.

She would put "better than hell" on her list of accomplishments..

As they continued their walk, something grabbed Christine. Erik was a few paces ahead when he heard her scream.

"Help me!" She shrieked, tugging on her caught dress. She couldn't see who grabbed her, the sun had set and with no lantern she was blind as a bat. Erik came running and saw Christine, in the dirt, howling as if the devil was on her tail, and having her dress caught on a broken tree branch.

"What are you doing standing there?! Help me!"

"Christine. Your attacker is a tree branch." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh."

He quickly set her free from the branch and she didn't say a word for fear that she'd die of embarrassment, until they reached the gypsy caravan. Or where it used to be.

"They're gone," she whispered, clutching at her heart.

"Damn," he stooped down to inspect the tracks, "They didn't leave too long ago. If we leave now…" Then he looked up at Christine, covered in dirt and muck, her hair matted, and her dress ripped and knew that they couldn't leave tonight.

"Do you have someplace we could stay?" He asked.

"I have a room above the tavern, but it's really small and it would be improper for you to sleep in the same room." She said huffily.

"Improper? Aren't we, as you said, _soulmates_?" he smirked at her.

"I'm sure we're _so_ in love that we share a bed even?"

Now that earned him a kick in the unmentionables.

"How dare you! We are _not_ soulmates and I am _not_ a harlot," she said as he was on the ground, writhing in pain, "You can sleep in the stable with all the other _animals_."

Christine went into her room and quickly heat up some water for a bath. As she started packing for the journey ahead, her thoughts raced.

 _My soulmate? Hardly, more like a brute. Why am doing this? Oh right, because I made a deal with the devil. What about my job? My lodgings? Does Erik have money to pay for this? I spent all mine creating this mess… Will we have to camp in the woods? Me? Alone with Erik?_

While Christine packed, Erik set off to find his buried money. He did make a great deal of money, illegal ventures were lucrative. He had buried money in locations in case he needed to make a run for it. Unfortunately, he died before he could use the money. Erik dug up the bag full of coins and quickly pocketed it in his waistcoat. Now they could actually get food and supplies. He now had time to think.

 _My God, is this my purgatory? To revisit the Earth and find an angel saying we're soulmates. She's gonna be mad about that comment for the whole trip. Worth it though. God and to have to seek out the gypsies? I wish I could die all over again. I should feel grateful for this second chance at life, but I'm not. Now I just feel lost. But Christine… My God. Little spitfire that one._

As Erik settled into the hay beside the animals and Christine slipped under ragged quilts, the town grew quiet and still. Everyone was asleep, except two souls, whose thoughts kept them up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Not A Ghost3- Yep I hoped that line would make ppl laugh. Erik's such a just kinda preoccupied with Erik's sassiness and "Holy sh*t someone came back from the dead" and I think she thinks that the spell was just kinda shoddy/wrong. Cuz ~** _ **raoul~**_ **is obviously her soulmate- not.**

 **Glacifly4POTO- Erik used to live near-ish to the village since he was buried in their local graves, so not too far away, idk maybe like slightly near his house and the village. He just walked for a couple miles or somethin' cuz yaknow Erik. Yep Erik's already in the doghouse or should I say stable?**

 **Melstrife- Erik is acting more like a assh*le with Christine and then turns around and writes in his imaginary diary, "o m g she's soo pretty. my angel. does she notice me?" He's a goner.**

 **FireRuby- Yessss Christine is more of a "takes no sh*t" person in my mind. Like when she kicked him. But she is kind of a girly girl in my mind and this chapter kinda shows that I think.**

 **Part of this chapter should just be called, "erik and christine go to bed, bath & beyond" and wow my writing is sporadic and y'all are the best keep reviewing I LOVE reading them.**

As the dawn rose the next morning, Erik and Christine had already risen and gone to get supplies at the local market.

"It's too early," moaned Christine.

"If we want to leave today we have to get the supplies early," he hissed back.

"Can you carry my bag at least?" She held out the sack full of her belongings.

He took it and rolled his eyes. "You should have packed lighter," he said as he threw the sack over his shoulder.

They reached the bustling marketplace, far too many people shouting, babies crying, people arguing. Everyone packed close together, animals and people alike. The stalls were full of everything you could need and along with them, their penny-pinching salespeople. While Christine walked on, Erik stopped in his tracks.

Christine looked back, "Come on, hurry up."

"It's too crowded." He said, pulling the hood of his cloak up.

"Erik," she said, exasperated, "just stay by me." She offered her hand and he took it, a little reluctant. She pulled him to and from every stall in the busy marketplace, pointing and staring at everything in the stall.

"Do we need this?" She asked, pointing at a stall full of dishes and silverware.

"Why would we need silverware in the woods?"

"But-" She whined.

"We need food, a horse, some blankets, and saddlebags. Nothing more, Christine." But there was one thing they they needed that he wouldn't tell her, weapons.

At every stall, Christine would be friendly and cheerily, as the storekeeper would stare, bewildered, the strange hooded figure next to her. She laid on the charm thick, busily chatting with the storekeeper to keep suspicions down.

Once they had several bags full of supplies and a horse to carry them, Erik said, "Christine can you go water the horse? I need to get one more thing…"

"Sure." She smiled happily and trotted off.

Erik quickly went to the weapons stall in a dark, shaded corner of the market. The man looked Erik up and down, but didn't say a thing. Men like him were the backbone of his business.

"What can I do for you?" He asked gruffly.

"I am in a need of several knives and some rope." He said, gesturing to the merchandise.

The storekeeper quickly gathered everything he needed and was paid in full.

Erik stuck the knives and lasso in cloak, next to his, now depleted, bag of coins and hurried off to find Christine.

"Are you ready to go, Christine?" _And break this damn spell._

"Yeah, I'm ready," she said, leading the horse away from the water and toward Erik, "And he's all watered up." She patted the horse's mane.

"Actually, he's a girl." He said smirking.

"How was I supposed to know…" she muttered, blushing ever-so-sightly.

Erik laid the saddle bags, then the blankets on the horse. "Do you know how to ride?"

"No, I've never ridden before."

"Here I'll help you up." He helped a very clumsy Christine onto the horse.

"What now?" She said nervously, wobbling a little bit.

"Just hold onto her mane." He said, jumping on the horse behind Christine.

"Hey!" She accused, uncomfortable by how close they were.

"Well you don't know how to ride and I'm sure you don't want to walk the whole way." His eyes gleamed as he watched her open her mouth as if to argue, but quickly shut it, turning away from him. He reached for the reins and they were off, into the sun, into the wood.

Eventually night came. The horse was tired from the journey and they stopped to camp at a clearing in the wood.

"We covered a good amount of ground today. I'm sure we'll catch up to them in no time," He said confidently, "then we'll be done with this mistake and we'll part ways." He threw another branch on the fire.

"Agreed." She said, breaking off a hunk of bread and tossing it to Erik. She rifled through the food bag, pulling out a bottle of spirits. Erik eyed her curiously.

"What? You wanted to buy it." She said, uncapping it and taking a swig.

Erik took the bottle out of her hands and carefully took a swig, holding on to his mask. He would need it for tonight. He loved the way she looked in the firelight. Her face illuminated in the darkness of the forest. A stray spark flew up and as it reached the ground it turned to ash.

"My parents used to tell me that those were fire fairies," she gestured to the speck of ash, "that they rise in a brilliance of light and then fall to the ground like Icarus. Burning up and turning to ashes and dust."

"Where are your parents?" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Dead and gone." She took another swig.

"I'm sorr-"

"It was a long time ago. Don't be sorry."

He was silent and stared at the chunk of bread in his hands.

"Aren't you hungry?" She stared at him.

"It's hard for me to eat with my mask on."

"I already saw it once and we're gonna be on this whole trip together…"

"I don't want to make you sick."

Now she was silent.

And so the night crawled on in silence, both staring into the fire.

 **wow sry to end on angst but yaknow.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dkk5: Thanks for the review. :D I will do my best to finish the story and post regularly-ish.**

 **NotAGhost3: Mask awkwardness is awkward. Ah well… Thanks for reviewing it keeps me going :)**

 **Glacifly4POTO: Christine was just tipsy drunk and then thought about her parents and got sad. Happiness is fleeting.**

 **I wrote about 1200 words this chapter! *self-five* This chapter is so sappy (a lil bit of angst tho)**

Christine woke with a pounding headache. The following night's saddened drinking had taken a toll on her. She drank for the number of people she had lost, she drank to forget, as if she'd wake up and her parents would be alive. Maybe even Raoul would be alive. But when she awoke, she remembered everything. She was on the forest floor, next to a strange man, with a face like a corpse and she felt the weight on her shoulders once more. Nothing was like she ever imagined it would be.

"Don't ever let me drink like that again," she groaned, putting her hands to her ears, trying to block out the noise that seemed so loud.

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten that alcohol…" Erik muttered.

Erik was busy picking up their supplies and readying the horse. "I know you have a headache, but we have to get going," he insisted.

"Okay. I'm up," she rose up and began folding the blankets carefully, "so how far away are we from the caravan?"

"A couple days of riding… Not too far."

 _-day later-_

"Erik, your clothes are filthy and you stink," Christine gestured to the obviously dirt-caked clothes he wore, "There's a creek nearby where you can wash up." She said it as though it was final. Not an option.

He did agree though. His clothes were awful and he did smell. He quickly undressed by the creek that was out of Christine's innocent eyes. He submerged his clothes in the water, watching the dirt fading away. He could clean his clothes and the water could make them clean, but nothing could absolve him of his countless sins. He had wasted his life, murdering and torturing, for money and for pleasure. Watching the life drain out of their eyes was a sick satisfaction and feeling their last breath escape their lips. He scrubbed at a blood stain he found on his clothes, but it wouldn't come off. He would do better this life. Try not to kill or at least not as much. Maybe God had given him this new life to atone for his sins. He waded into the water, washing the dirt off his skin. He would do better, he resolved.

While Erik was washing up, Christine went foraging for berries. She carried a small bag and sang a simple folk tune as she worked. The beautiful music echoed through the wood, and right into Erik's ears.

 _Christine? It couldn't be…_ He thought. He put on his still-wet clothes and followed her voice, entranced. She sang about lovers, separated by the fates. It was a duet, but she had no partner. Erik could not resist joining in.

 _My God…_ He thought.

Their voices complemented each other, the notes dancing and swirling around. Erik followed her voice, the voice of a siren.

Christine heard the other voice join her in song. _No one's in the forest, but me and Erik. It can't be. It has to be…_ She told herself. She rejoiced in the duet, abandoning the bag full of berries to follow his voice. _Maybe this is why...No, Christine. Don't be silly. This is a mistake, a fluke._ Her mind began to lose itself in song. Her thoughts slowed and her senses sharpened. She kept walking.

Finally the last chorus rang out in perfect harmony as they finally saw each other. Their eyes locked and the last note rang out into the still air. The music died and Christine dropped onto the ground in a faint.

 _You killed her. You killed her. The one person you have you killed her. You shatter everything you touch._ He leaned over to check her breathing. _She's alive, thank God. What did we create?_

He picked her up and carried her bridal style back to camp. He laid her down on the pile of blanket, taking in her features in a new light. Creamy skin and a smathering of freckles across her face, her brunette curls framing her face in the sunlight.

Her eyes flickered open. _Erik. me. Singing._

"What happened?" She asked, breathlessly.

"We created something."

* * *

After the day of singing, Erik and Christine sang often when they were riding and resting. One night by the firelight after a song, Christine said, "You sing like an angel." Erik looked at her in an intense way, "You're an angel." She blushed a deep crimson and turned away. He drew closer to her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. His hair wasn't slicked back today, it falling forward, in front of his mask. She looked at his unmasked side and noted quietly that he would her been very handsome if not for the other side. "Erik?" She said, lazily.

"Yes, Christine?"

"How old are you?"

"How many years living? Or total years?"

"Total."

"I'm 36 or 37. Died too young…"

"How did you die?" She asked curiously.

"Gunshot wound." He looked nervous.

"Go on." She urged.

"I am not proud of what I did."

"I won't judge."

"I killed people, Christine."

"Erik-"

"No, Christine. Don't ask if I had a reason. I didn't- I don't. I mostly killed for money and sometimes for sport." He watched the horror fill her eyes but continued. She needed to hear it. He got a sick pleasure from watching her pain. "I enjoyed killing. But now I regret it. Christine I am trying…" He moved closer to her, but she moved away.

 _He's a murder, Christine. You can't. But he's my soulmate._ She battled with herself.

"Erik, I need to think." She got up and started walking.

"Christine, please." He called after her.

 _Now you're going to lose her. You're going to lose her forever._

* * *

 _She kissed his lips ever so softly. "C'mon Erik." she coaxed, "Lemme see." She reached for his mask and wretched it off. Laughter like bells rang out. "Did you really think I could love you? Have you looked at yourself? I went to dig up my Raoul and I got stuck with a corpse." She spat out and sauntered away from him._

Erik awoke from his nightmare with a jolt.

"Erik, you awake?"

"Yes." He said, getting up.

"I believe what you said, about regretting what you did… " She walked over to him.

"Christine?" he said, distracted, "Will you sing with me?"

"Of course."

They began on a gentle love song and Erik offered his hand, which she took and they began to dance. His hand was cold in hers, but she didn't care. They bodies grew closer as they reached a soft crescendo in the song. She let go of his hand. _Does she want to stop?_ He wondered, but his question was answered by Christine wrapping her arms around his neck. She laid down her head gently on his bony chest, still singing with him softly. She could hear his heartbeat increase. _My God, she's going to be the death of me...What are you doing with your hands, idiot?_ He rested his hands on the small on her back, drawing her closer.

The last line rang out into the still air and Christine broke off first. She blushed madly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I'm gonna go water the supplies, I mean-fire, I mean- horse." She blushed even harder and ran off in embarrassment.


End file.
